


Art Therapy

by cablesscutie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Theater AU, cannon-typical alcohol mention, mentions of overdose, musical theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: The Theater Nerd!Jack AU we all needed.





	

Jack’s mother had always kept up with the local art scene wherever she lived, and with Bad Bob busy and travelling so much, he ended up dragged along quite a bit as a child. He was quiet and well-mannered, so his mother never saw much reason to get a sitter. They were the kinds of culturally enriching experiences she wished she’d had when she was young, so when she was invited to gallery openings or told about great concerts and performances, she just brought Jack along. He’s got shoeboxes in his closet back home that are filled with old wristbands, ticket stubs, and playbills. 

And while all of it had been fun - getting to spend time with his mother, having her ask his opinion of things like she was really curious - his favorite had been theater. Concerts got too loud sometimes, even with earplugs, and sometimes the art was just weird and bad and not at all accessible for someone who was all of eight, but he understood theater. The musicals were his favorite, catchy and beautiful, and always the right volume. 

So it just became their thing. They’d take the train to New York to see Broadway shows, catch productions by local theater companies, even some of the college performances when it was a favorite. Alicia didn’t think she would ever be as sad as she was the day Jack turned down tickets to the Broadway closing of Rent because he didn’t want to miss skate the next morning. The universe cruelly proved her wrong.

After Jack was home from rehab his therapist had strongly encouraged Jack to find passions outside of hockey. Three months and several failed community center clubs later, he’d slid into the passenger seat of Alicia’s car and asked, “Are you busy Sunday afternoon?” That weekend, they made plans for a matinee and dinner. In the parking lot after watching The Last Five Years, Jack came out to his mother, stumbling through the whole horrible story of Kent and the Q and the meds. By the time he pulled away from her hug, apologizing for the wet patch on the shoulder of her sweater, he felt light enough to huff a small laugh when she wiped his tears with a crumpled Tim Horton’s napkin from the glovebox.

Jack worked on his first show the same year he coached peewee hockey. A couple of kids on his team were also in their school drama club and were complaining about how hard it was to build the sets because nobody’s parents seemed to have time and their Emerald City was only half done for the show next weekend. Before he really knew what he was saying, Jack had offered to help them finish it. “I don’t really have much else to do when we’re not practicing here, so…I mean I could try? I’m not much good with tools but…” Jack was definitely not exaggerating his lack of handyman abilities, and in fact almost broke his thumb with a hammer, but he technically counted as adult supervision. On the second day, the fifth grader who was set designer handed Jack a paintbrush and can of green paint, informing him that “the nurse’s office closed at three,” and “I think this is more your speed.”

Samwell’s hockey team was admittedly not the best. They hadn’t ever won major titles, but they put up consistently respectable standings and, most importantly, when Jack toured the school and met the coaches, there was no talk of “looking the other way” or “party scenes”. Hall and Murray congratulated him on his recovery and encouraged him to be open with the team staff if he was struggling “with anything, not just your health. Term papers, homesickness, issues with a friend - we have each other’s backs here.” The liberal arts aspect was the icing on the cake. 

Jack signed up for the Samwell drama club during Welcome Week and was assigned to set building. He’d skate with the team in the morning, head to class, and then camp out in the black-box theater until dinner. That was how he eventually met Eric Bittle. Jack’s junior year, was a freshman Eric working in the costume shop and was just about the cutest damn thing Jack had ever seen. It was…honestly pretty terrifying. Jack had done a lot of work in therapy over the last few years to come to terms with his sexuality in theory. The problem was that while he’d been living at home or even just adjusting to his over-committed schedule, everything about his sexuality had been just that - theory. Having a crush forced him to put his money where his mouth was.

So Jack tried to avoid Eric, which didn’t work out very well. Samwell itself was already pretty damn small, and the theater department was downright tiny. So it wasn’t entirely unsurprising that they ended up wedged in the same corner of Larissa’s apartment at the My Fair Lady cast party. The lights in the room kept changing color, revolving from vague and shadowy to blinding bright and the music was too loud to make out a specific song. The whole thing was so much, and Jack found himself having to be a little cautious of his breathing to make sure he didn’t panic, huddled against the fridge next to the boy he liked.

“Hi!” Eric greeted Jack, smiling bright, face flushed a little from the heat and the alcohol. “Jack, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Jack took a sip from his own cup of “Tub Juice”. “And you’re Eric?”

“That’s me! The sets looked amazing. Henry’s library was just…wow!”

“Oh. Thank you, I - I mean Larissa was the designer you know, I just painted things.”

“And you painted them very nicely.” The crowd jostled Eric who swayed a little closer. Jack caught his elbow, and felt his ears burning when Eric didn’t step away again. He couldn’t meet those big brown eyes, but when he looked down, his mouth went dry at seeing the miles of leg exposed by Eric’s teeny shorts.

“Thanks,” Jack choked out. “The costumes were really great too. Eliza’s gown was amazing.” He took another drink of Tub Juice and steeled his nerves enough to make eye contact again. “It doesn’t even taste like there’s alcohol in this.”

“Oh trust me,” Bitty said, patting Jack’s chest and just…leaving his hand there because apparently God was testing Jack tonight, “there is. I saw Shitty making it. And I’m pretty new to this, but I think the lack of suffering on the way down is probably going to come back to bite us in the morning.”

“Probably, Ransom and Holster call it Kegster Karma.”

“Well if we’re gonna die in the morning, hopefully this’ll be one spectacular night.” Eric leaned further into Jack’s space, body pressed all up against him and then Eric was taking his cup, setting both their drinks down on the counter. Jack took in a startled breath but then Eric was back, sliding arms around Jack’s shoulders, and Jack gripped his hips, trying to comprehend how he suddenly just had an armful of warm, tan skin. Eric kissed him, and the music and the lights and the people all dulled until everything was that warm sweet mouth and panting breaths that were just the right volume.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send in more prompts at imaginezimbits on tumblr, or come visit me on my main, latticeontop!


End file.
